Wide Awake
by Xyliette
Summary: An A/U in which the girls leave town and the guys must fend for themselves and their children. Messes of epic proportions ensue. Post 3.14. Derek/Addison, Mark/Callie, and Mark/Addison.


**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
Don't wanna get caught up dreaming of your love  
Cause when I open my eyes there's not a shot in this life  
I might as well give up and save all my good luck  
For when I've when I've got the extra change  
You can move aside cause now I'm wide awake  
- Making April, "Wide Awake"  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison watches with a warm smile as her three year old daughter traipses the room carefully in too-large black Marc Jacobs pumps. Her little feet scuffle slowly, hands surely somewhat sticky but clinging to the hem of her unnecessarily spectacled purple dress without hesitation. Memories of herself swirl about, a little older in age, dress white and fluffy, shoe's her mother's daring red slingbacks. "Reade," Addison calls out to her, hands full of mascara wands and brushes. "Come here, let Mommy fix your hair."

She applies another thin layer of black and lets the product bounce off the counter as it falls out of her clumsy grip. The usual retort of something like "I'm playin'" comes seconds later and she can't help but sigh. At this rate she'll never be leaving the house. "I'll do it really fast and if you're good maybe Mommy will let you wear some lip gloss. Do you want some?" She holds out the shimmery tube she hasn't used in years as bait and watches as Reade jumps out of the shoes with the skill only her daughter could muster and dashes onto the short chair against the pale yellow wall in the bathroom.

"Braids today please," Reade grins, fingers smoothing down her outfit. She's her mother's daughter, nothing but fastidious with her appearance and conscious of fashion and colors no matter her age. It drives Derek crazy (because his growing child can put together something that matches better than he can, Addison teases), and ups the ante on her giving him a male heir sometime in the future. She figures she has a few more months before she has to consent to trying. And then a few more months after that to actually stop taking birth control before he gets frustrated by the lack of results.

"We don't have time," Addison replies about the requested hair style, running the clear brush through the girl's tangled waves.

"Ow!" Reade squeals, eyes filling with tears, hands flying to her scalp to save herself for more harm.

Addison pulls the arms blocking her movement back and reminds her daughter that if she doesn't stop them that this will go much faster. She presses a kiss to the top of her head, promises to be more gentle and then continues.

"Are you abusing our poor child again?" Derek asks, hair still wet from the shower they shared half an hour ago.

"Daddy!" Reade shouts, jumping out of the chair, hairbrush still stuck in her dark brown locks.

"Derek," Addison groans, rolling her eyes as he swings their daughter up into his arms. He yanks the brush out of her hair and tosses it at Addison.

"You tell Mommy that we aren't brushing your hair this week. We're having a grizzly man week."

"Grizz-ly," she repeats as he growls at her, his best bear impression in full force.

"Derek," Addison replies seriously. "You have to brush her hair. I'm not dealing with seven day's worth of mess when I get back. She has your hair, you know it needs attention."

"And yours doesn't?" he retorts playfully.

"Not as much as yours." She ignores him when he kisses her cheek and whispers that he will do his best but he's not making any promises. She knows he won't because the child sitting once again has him by the balls and she can get away with anything she wants. It's a constant source of tension and bickering for both parties and more often than not a great source of entertainment for Addison when their daughter manages to negotiate prizes and treats into everyday routines.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"We're going to be fine," Mark groans uninspired, his blonde son pressed up against his chest, tears falling rapidly out of his distraught eyes.

Callie rushes back to graze another kiss to his head before being jerked away by an impatient Addison who understands that the longer they dilly-dally the harder it is going to be on their children to see them leave.

"We got this," Derek smiles, Reade clutching his hand furiously. After attempting to rush after Addison they had a nice stern warning and she's been seeing red since. He smirks thinking about the temper she clearly inherited, accompanying thoughts of the teenage years wafting in, and watches as his wife sways into the airport, her luggage in tow.

"We are so screwed," Mark lets out immediately after they are no longer visible. He holds Silas tighter and begins weaving through the hordes of people, headed back toward Derek's car. "Why did we let them do this?"

"We'll be fine," Derek insists, sweeping Reade off her feet and onto his back for fear of losing her in the crowd. "Hold on tight Pumpkin."

"Piggy-back!" she yells into his ear causing him to grimace and the younger Sloan to look up and pull his thumb away from his hiccuping mouth for a brief moment.

"Maybe you'll be fine," Mark argues. "This child," he pats his son's back, "is attached to Callie at all times. My son is the biggest Mamma's Boy you'll find, worse than you were."

"I wasn't-"

"You were."

"Can you blame me? In that house?" Derek questions. In the Shepherd household you had to fight for the attention, even when he had the upper-hand as the only boy.

"Not at all," Mark agrees, winking at a twenty-something as she walks by. He notices, he doesn't look and he doesn't care for any other women but he thinks he should fulfill the role of the free man for a few days. At least on the outside. "We're going to need alcohol Derek."

"Mark, relax, honestly you're worse than Addison was this morning. All cuddly and sad when she should be happy and relieved. It's going to be like any other week. You'll see."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"We have a problem," Mark whispers into his phone hours later.

"Why are you whispering?" Derek asks, sliding onto the couch and enjoying the silence of Reade playing in the other room with her horses.

"Because Silas finally fell asleep but...he decided that he should take a nap on the kitchen table and I'm too afraid I'll wake him if I move him...and too afraid to leave him and let him roll off onto the floor. Callie would kill me dead if she came back and his head was stitched up...that's why."

"Just pick him up," Derek instructs, wondering if Callie really is the one who has a point when she comes over and kicks him out of bed at night to bitch about Mark being useless.

"No he needs to sleep. I need him to sleep," Mark corrects, fingers tugging on his short hair in frustration. His son is a napper, just like his mother.

"You aren't going to get anything done leaning up against the refrigerator."

Mark looks up at the appliance littered with smudgy fingerprint drawings and alphabet magnets Callie bought when Silas was six months old. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Uh-huh," Derek replies, beer bottle graciously pressed against his lips. There's nothing like an easy Sunday without a list of shit Addison needs done by Monday or worse a list of things Reade wants to do with her parents over the weekend. On occasion Derek finds work more relaxing and renewing than being at home with his family.

"I'm not," Mark insists. "What's for dinner?"

"What do you mean what's for dinner?"

"I'm out of food," Mark tells him, glancing at the highlighted list of takeout and pizza places that Callie left for him. This is how they operate.

"Go shopping," Derek laughs, and then doubles over in pain as Reade comes barreling out of the playroom and slams a plastic horse into his crotch. "I....gotta....go," he huffs and pinches his eyes shut.

"Sorry," Reade tells him instantly, fingers clutching the white farm animal, afraid it will come alive and lash out again. "Daddy?" she asks sheepishly a few minutes later after he's reassured her it was a mistake (that she swore never to repeat, just like last time) and that he is indeed alive.

"Yeah baby?"

"Snack time," she giggles and prances off to the kitchen to get herself into her booster seat. Derek follows still hunched over in pain and pulls the bag labeled "Sunday- 2:15pm" out of the snack bin in the refrigerator and tosses the contents - apples and cheese with a honey graham cracker square as a special treat from him - onto a small white plate. Then he takes the opened package and joins her at the table, nibbling heartily. "You want Silas and Uncle Mark to come over for dinner?"

She nods enthusiastically, mouth full, fruit juice beginning to creep out the corners of her lips.

"Ok, but you need to be nice to Silas this time. He's still a baby." He recalls last time when she set the poor kid up by pulling everything in Addison's home office apart and then sticking Silas in the middle of the mess to get yelled at. It didn't take them long to figure the real culprit was someone that could reach the forth shelf but it also didn't save Silas from a timeout.

"I'm not a baby," she says proudly, fiddling with the last cheese cube she has left.

"No, you're a big girl," he commends. Three going on thirty, he always says.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"You have to wear clothes," Derek says frustrated as Reade pouts from the corner naked save her new underwear. Derek's not sure when Addison manages to find time to shop, but she does, oh God how she does.

"I don't like that," she points to the disaster he's chosen for her to show off. Her mother would never in a million years let something like that be worn in public.

"Well," Derek runs his fingers through his hair trying to think of an idea. "Why don't you pick what you want to wear then."

"Really?" she asks, eyes lighting up as she narrows in on the overflowing white dresser.

"Sure, but you have to pick fast cause Daddy is running late and we still have to go pick up Uncle Mark and Silas." That call came at six this morning when Mark realized that neither one of their vehicles had enough gas to make it to a station (after forgetting to refill on the way home last night) and that he was already behind in trying to get his son mobile, fed, and dressed.

Forty minutes later Derek peers into the review mirror, checking to be sure that he won't run anything over.

"Uncle Mark, you like my dress?" Reade pries, patting the gentle blue frill on her legs, ignoring Silas as he tries to grab the bunny she has a death grip on. Hoppie goes everywhere and the evidence is all over his wearing fabric, washed more times than Derek considers to be appropriate, even by Addison's neurotic standards. In fact, if Hoppie wasn't in a load of their laundry at least once a day he'd be surprised.

"You're just as gorgeous as your mother," Mark tells her without thought, receiving a glare from Derek. "Si, leave her alone," Mark grunts at his son, beyond enraged at the antics that took place in his house last night. Between diapers and needing water he's not convinced the toddler slept at all, and he's certain he hasn't had more than twenty continuous minutes of sleep since Callie has been gone.

It's going to be a long week.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

If you asked Miranda Bailey, Addison Montgomery-Shepherd and Callie Torres-Sloan have definitely had better ideas than leaving their significant others to run things while they took a vacation, but then again no one asked her. The cries she hears aren't surprising but they still make her blood boil. She sidesteps a patient, and redirects her path from the clinic to familiar silver car fifty feet away.

Low and behold, two kids in a car, alone. She snatches the extra set of keys Addison smartly gave her out of her labcoat pocket and proceeds to unstrap her pseudo niece and nephew, Silas instantly clinging to her.

"He's hungry," Reade informs Miranda and she nods understandingly. It probably hasn't been that long, given the fact that she knows there is no way they got here on time and that the rain Seattle was producing an hour ago was enough to bring things to a near standstill in places.

"Where'd your Daddy go?" Miranda guides them both inside the clinic and raids the small cooler behind the desk for orange juice and a few cookies. Silas's sobs stop instantly and he shoves a cookie in his mouth to suck on.

"He's working," Reade replies with a bounce. "Where's Mommy?"

"Add- Mommy," Miranda clears her throat, "is away...helping babies." She leaves the part about massages and beaches and tropical drinks out because there isn't much point and only leads to a discussion she really doesn't want to be having with a child that's too smart for her own good.

"Bailey?" Reade tugs on Miranda's pants as she tries to help Dr. Stevens assess her mystery patient.

"Yes," Miranda begins roughly and then covers the rest of the word sweetly.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Hang on just a second," Miranda replies, pen furiously scribbling through the lines Izzie has drawn.

"Now," Reade urges and finally gets whisked away. Miranda manages to find Silas in one piece and not crying, Izzie evidently being good at only one thing today- babysitting. She gathers both her charges, bathroom problem crossed off her list, and starts down the hall to find the two idiots who left their children unattended.

Because her pages go unanswered she's forced into this situation. With a blue pen, and a yellow pad of paper Miranda begins her list. "Those Damn Fools", she calls it. A short compilation for Callie and Addison to view upon their rested return. She folds it approximately twice, stuff it in with the keys and marches into the scrub room of Dr. Shepherd's surgery, her fist pounding on the glass. When he finally diverts his attention she holds up his daughter and he merely shrugs confused, as if he is completely unaware as to why Miranda would have her.

Derek pulls her hands away, crossing the bloodied gloves at his wrists, unafraid of scaring Reade with grossness because it seems to be something she thrives on. It probably helps that surgery tapes were one of the few things that made her quiet during that horrid teething phase a few years back. When they discovered it, accidentally pushing the wrong movie in, Addison flipped her lid but soon succumbed to the peace it provided. Give and take. Not-so secretly he loves it and knows his wife does too. Having another future surgeon among them makes life easier than say if he was living with a potential artist.

He waves Miranda in, and she joins him after making sure both children are entertained with surgical masks.

"What?

"Dr. Shepherd, where do you think I found your daughter?" Miranda asks, hands on hips, pose unneeded in the grand scheme of her scariness.

"Miranda," Derek checks behind himself and takes another step forward when he's assured that the nurses are busy conversing among themselves. "I don't have time for this."

"Apparently you had so little time that you forgot to take her out of the car."

"No," Derek shakes his head, "Mark said that he would get them. I had an emergency."

Miranda eyes him suspiciously and then lets him go, calling out only to remind him, "You aren't off the hook for this Shepherd!"

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Dr. Sloan," Miranda addresses and then thrusts his screaming son towards him.

Mark takes a step back and then gives in, Silas pounding away on his back, screeching something about his mother. He does nothing to dissuade the fit and yet he looks no more out of place for holding a child. "How-"

"You forgot him in the car," she fills in, watching his mouth drop. It's clear here which man is more terrified of his woman but Miranda would be willing to bet that in eleven years Mark might have the same outlook as his friend.

"Derek was getting them," Mark refutes.

"You need to learn how to communicate, I'm only warning you both this once. If I see it again, I'm calling Callie."

"That's not really necessary Dr. Bailey," Mark scoots forward, smiling charmingly as his son wails into his ear.

"We see things differently Dr. Sloan. Some people think it's unacceptable to leave small children unattended in locked vehicles, you apparently do not."

"But Derek said-"

"Save it," Miranda orders and walks away pulling the yellow list of doom out of her pocket. She and Callie need to have a talk.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Silas, for the love of...please shut the hell up," Mark mutters, well out of earshot of his son who is bright red in the face and thrashing his chubby legs on the hardwood floor. He's in way over his head and now the only thing absolute is that he will not be getting laid for a very long time once Callie gets home.

He retrieves the first aid kit from upstairs, hidden in a dusty old closet, and pokes through it hoping to find something suitable. Unfortunately, the container hasn't been restocked since 1985 and all it holds are tweezers, gauze and a band-aid that would cover half of Silas' face without even trying. He swipes out the gauze and rips through the package, then drops down onto his knees, and applies pressure to the wide split in his son's chin.

Sure, maybe taking away his favorite toy (the loudest, most fucking annoying fire truck ever invented, Mark swears) so that he would eat dinner for the first time all week was probably not a great idea. All it got him was a tempter tantrum and perhaps, he'd be willing to concede, placing said toy on top of the entertainment center where Silas could see it but sure couldn't reach it wasn't a witty move. And given the background of both sets of DNA, Mark's own penchant for scaling things like a howler monkey when he was growing up, and Callie's wild side, he should've known better. But none of the relevant facts matter now because the red blood is soaking through too quickly for his liking and he knows that a hospital run is in order, unless by the grace of a God Mark's never known, Derek magically has a suture kit in his house somewhere. Or maybe (hopefully) overly prepared Addison has something stashed away.

He jerks his son onto his lap and dials with two fingers steady on the keypad as they hurry to the car. As a firm "hands off" parent Mark attempts to switch into doctor mode, fails and leaves Derek a frenzied voicemail about his relationship ending and something about joint custody.

Derek, fresh out of surgery, misses his phone by three seconds and speed dials when Mark's name pops up as the phantom call. "Why don't you just come stay at my house, it's probably better than us spending eighty percent of the waking hours talking on the phone to each other like the women," he pauses at the silence of the open ended receiver, "Mark?"

"It's bad," Mark says softly, toned with an edge of worry. "What if he's not okay? What if he bleeds out?"

"What happened?" Derek questions, slipping down a wall and stretching out his legs into the empty hallway.

"What if he losses consciousness? I have to drive."

"Mark-"

"What if....Callie is going to kill me."

"Mark!" Derek yells loudly. "What happened?"

"He fell."

"And?"

"Busted his chin open."

"That's it?" Derek groans.

"He's hurt Derek, can't you hear him...It's my fault."

"He'll be fine. Where are you?" Derek crosses his legs and uncrosses them again, uncomfortable from standing so long, too wound up to sit.

"On my way, hey, did Bailey yell at you?"

"I wouldn't call it yelling. She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me," Mark laments and then finishes with a flourish of manliness and promises to meet Derek in Bay 2.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Think I can take these out soon?" Mark asks, looking down at his son's bandaged face. The very son who is now amazingly quiet and enjoying the sugar of a "grape" lollipop that Derek found somewhere.

"Soon, as in the next week, or before Callie gets home?" Derek asks suspiciously.

"Callie," Mark admits, and pats the top of Silas' head, happy that he is quiet and content with the sucker. "Derek?" Mark wonders after a few minutes of waiting for the nurse to bring the appropriate papers.

"Yeah?"

"Where's Reade?"

"What's today?" Derek counteroffers.

"Wednesday."

"Hold on," Derek stands and jams his hands into his pockets, the silver keys scraping his palms as he dives in.

Mark grins slyly, happy to not be the only one screwing things up. "You don't know where-"

"No, I know. On Wednesdays...shit," he curses and dips into the other pocket, fishing around for the paper Addison diligently penned out. "On Wednesdays Reade has ballet from 4:30 to 6:00. Mrs. Wallace, her old nanny picks her up from school," Derek recites. "...wait, oh man. You think Callie is going to kill you when she gets here, Addison is going to hire a hitman and I'll be dead before she returns. She'll get off scott-free too, no one will ever suspect her..." he rattles nervously.

"Reade didn't go to school today," Mark says thoughtfully. "I didn't know she was in school already."

"All day pre-k. She already knows everything that they do but she and Addison agreed that her social skills could use some work plus she has a few friends that go...or something...I don't remember. Addison says it's important to get her out. I think she's afraid we'll have the biggest antisocially awkward nerd on the block."

"How could you not?" Mark snorts.

"At least I'm not raising-"

"We should probably go find your daughter," Mark interjects.

"She's in daycare."

"What are you worried about then?" Mark brushes it off and turns back to his boy, face still splotchy and stained with tears.

"Addison made me repeat one hundred times that Reade wouldn't miss this class, especially because there's a recital and she's missed too many classes already and she needs to get a part because this isn't like every other extra curricular where they play all the kids cause they have to, this is different and if she doesn't go she won't get a part because you can only miss three classes and she's used her absences up and then her heart will be crushed because she's been practicing really hard and it will be all my fault and I will be the world's worst father...but still a decent husband," Derek finishes out of breath, pretty certain that he's already forgotten a clause or two from the speech he had down on Sunday morning.

"Jesus."

"Amen," Derek sighs.

"I'm glad I have a boy. A boy who plays in the mud and breaks his face-"

"Mark, we need to leave," Derek glances at his watch. "An hour ago."

"Right," Mark nods, deciding that since his friend helped him the least he can do is stick around and fall asleep in the car as a bunch of little girls prance around aimlessly. Maybe they can grab dinner because looking at the violet-shaded-drool-covered sucker is making his stomach growl in anticipation.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Hey man, slight issue." Mark says not-so softly into the dark room, lit only by a strip of light peeking in from behind him.

"What," Derek growls, flopping over in his bed. His bed that feels too large, and too empty for him to be getting any good sleep. He's too hot without Addison's cold feet tangled in his legs, too restless without her head pinning his chest to the mattress.

"Out of diapers."

"Mark, it's three in the morning."

"I know what time it is Derek," Mark punches back and leans against the door frame lazily. "Don't you have...something from when Reade-"

"She potty-trained herself in a day and a half. I think Addison bribed her."

"Yeah well, I'm not even bothering while Callie is gone. It's been a disaster and I don't want to deal with that. He likes diapers, I don't see a problem."

"It'll be a problem when he's forty," Derek retorts and climbs out of bed, his sweats tangled around his calves, hair messy from rolling over ceaselessly.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Daddy," the almost four year old says gently while poking her father in the shoulder. "Daddy?"

Derek turns over, his Friday morning already ruined by the sneaking suspicion that something important was supposed to have taken place yesterday and didn't. "Yeah Sweet Pea?"

"Hoppie is scared."

Derek decodes and lifts her up onto the bed without thought. "I'll keep Hoppie safe, let's go back to sleep though." He tucks the bunny under his left arm and feels her snuggle up seconds later. She's never been one for excessive touching, a part of her fierce and at times debilitating independence, but cuddling before the sun fully rises is not a thing she discourages.

"For how long?"

"Thirty more minutes."

"I can count to thirty," she smiles, eyes watching the bumpy ceiling. "One, two, three-"

"Not now, just sleep time," Derek tells her sternly and relishes in the silence that bristles through moments later.

"Daddy?"

"Yes Reade?" Derek mumbles, clenching his eyes shut tighter, feeling his dazed sleepiness begin to rush off into a vicious need for caffeine.

"Has it been thirty minutes yet?"

"No."

"How long has it been?"

"About thirty seconds."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?" Derek replies, brain moving to auto pilot. He hates this game more than when Addison asks him which shoes match better. At least then he can spend an exorbitant amount of time staring at her never ending legs.

"I have to tell you something."

"Lay it on me."

"What?" Reade questions confused by his mode of conversation. "Hoppie-"

"No, just...tell me what you wanted to tell me."

"I miss school," she frowns. "Can I go today?"

"Honey, I need you to stay at the hospital with me. I can't pick you up from school like Mommy does, you know that."

"But Ms. Kelly will get mad and she won't give me gold stars anymore."

"I'm sure there are plenty of stars in your future," he says quickly, laughing a little, and then smiles when she stills and stays silent.

"Daddy?"

When he feels like screaming that he gives the hell up already, he has to remind himself to take a step back, which he finds is happening with mounting frequency this week. He'll have to remind Addison of how much he loves her for keeping him sane when she returns. With a deep breath he asks her what it is that she needs/wants this time. Her reply of missing Mommy is something he can echo genuinely and then they tumble down the stairs to check the list of what he is supposed to make for breakfast today.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Think they'll be surprised?" Addison grins in the back of the cab as the rain pours down in heavy sheets around them.

"I think they may have heart attacks," Callie chuckles. "They deserve it, for never picking up the damn phone when we call to check in."

"I got a call from Reade's school today. She hasn't been all week," Addison tells Callie, having checked her voicemail while her friend was in the bathroom earlier. Ten hour flights and a fear of airplane toilets do not mix well. The logic behind why an airport is better is even more baffling to Addison but she's let it go.

"Miranda left me a message about a record of all the things that have gone wrong this week. I dunno if I want to see it."

"Ignorance is bliss," Addison returns and settles back against the worn leather. A few Mai Thais, scrunching her toes in sand, and several darker shades of skin have given her a new lease on life, or at the very least the next few months.

The following hour the finally arrive, jet lag beginning to kick in. Addison turns the handle of her house, Callie hot on her trail, to find two sets of tiaras and pretty pink feather boas playing what she can only guess is the man's version of Tea Party. Instead of using the tiny table upstairs Derek has converted a cardboard box, a fabric place mat serving as a tablecloth, plastic cups instead of the delicate china upstairs that only gets played with when Addison can supervise. "We're home," she mumbles and steels herself for the tackle that will happen in a blur of seconds but it never comes.

"Nice outfit," Callie teases and wraps her arms around Mark neck, plucking the shiny object from his head and placing it in her smooth black tresses. "I think it suits me better."

"How about you just wear that tonight?" Mark smirks.

"It's funny that you think you'd be getting laid after wreaking turmoil all over our son. Speaking off the devil," Callie pauses looking around the house. "Where are the kids?"

"They're around here somewhere," Mark says, to which he earns a firm slap on the arm and a fleeing girlfriend. He points in the general direction of the bathroom and finds that little Reade is the only one successful enough to get their son to use a toilet. Sometimes you get one good thing among the mess. And for this genius idea (he didn't think of but will claim as his own) he will definitely be getting lucky.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Derek!" Addison shouts, after rescuing her daughter from the bathroom and holding her as close as humanly possible until she squirmed and complained about being suffocated. She follows him into the kitchen, presumably for more "tea". Tea also known as cheap, cheap beer that takes like a tin can. "The house is a disaster. Did you give Molly the new keys?"

And there's what he was supposed to do on Thursday. He grimaces and turns toward the sink. "You know, I tried but I couldn't get ahold of her."

"You were supposed to meet her here on your lunch break, I wrote that down!" Addison points to the calendar that she painstakingly prepared for him. Most of which, she assumes, wasn't completed.

"Addie," he kisses her cheek and pulls at her belt loops. "It's fine."

"The house is a pigpen."

"We'll clean it then," he replies and tugs even harder until she stumbles and falls against him.

"You'll clean it," she corrects and then leans in for her greeting kiss.

"And then I'll make us dinner and we can relax."

She nuzzles into his chest and can't resist, "Technically, I made dinner. All you have to do is defrost is."

"About that-"

"Derek," Addison moans, a warning tone. "Please tell me she didn't eat egg rolls and cereal all week."

"Not exactly."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Here you go," Miranda proudly smacks her three deep, tattered, yellow pages down on the small table in the attending's lounge. What a week.

"Miranda, this was very nice of you but...I think I'd rather believe that they were amazing and that nothing went horribly wrong. I'll need another vacation in a few months and if I know what's on that list, I won't be able to let myself go," Addison replies, swirling her cold soup around the bowl.

"Well, I'll leave it. It makes for good bedtime stories."

"Thanks," Addison says sarcastically and shoves the lined sheets into her pocket. "Thank you for...watching them," Addison calls out as Miranda wanders off to find a new case.

"You owe me," Miranda retorts, face ill with seriousness.

"For the rest of time."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison coughs and sputters back into reality, her lungs working overtime to get oxygen. She feels a hand on her back and inhales shallowly wondering what happened. "Derek?" she croaks weakly, feeling the body pull her back into its embrace.

"Addison," Mark soothes, brushing the matted bangs off her forehead. "Hey, slow down," he demands when she tries to scoot away quickly.

"What happened?" She wraps her arms around herself protectively as everything comes rushing back in. A young patient, waking up, not being able to hold her breath and talk at the same time.

"We don't know what happened exactly but the patient is definitely toxic. The lab guys are working on an approximate cause. How do you feel?"

"Is she okay?" Addison asks instead, legs swinging off the edge of the bed in a eerily quiet hall.

"Yeah...she's...she'll be all right. The Chief paged the interns to come help. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," she replies instantly and then cringes. She definitely feels worse than crap. It was so real. Her fingers tingling as they intertwined with Derek's, the paint in the kitchen a wonderful shade of blue, her daughter's eyes strikingly similar to her own. She nods off again, swaying into Mark, desperately trying to find another world.

Mark shakes her gently, attempting to pull her out of dreamland so she can get more oxygen into her body. "Addison....Addie..."

She opens her eyes again to find the same thing. A cruel trick of the mind. Even in her hallucinations she's oddly masochistic. "Mark, you saved me."

"I just caught you," he laughs, "I need you to wear this though," he holds the mask up so she can see it, "and lie still for awhile. I need to get back in there and watch," he pauses at her morose smile. "Actually, I'll page Bailey and get her to set you up in the clinic. You'll feel better down there with everyone else."

He eases her back against the dark blue pillow and watches as she twists onto her side. She pulls the plastic away from her mouth to speak but he's faster, "I'll check on you when I'm done." I will always check on you, he thinks silently.

She nods, water inadvertently filling her eyes, emotions a little difficult to control. The meaning of his sentiments are not completely lost in the fog surrounding her mind. "Thank you."

He ambles away slowly, looking back ever so often. It's fitting she believes. That's how their relationship seems to work.

It doesn't, however, stop her from relaxing against the scratchy fabric and wishing that it was Derek all along.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

**A/N:** I know, I know. It requires a certain amount of indulgence and it's incredibly vivid for a dream but just jump on the fluffy bus and let those thoughts sail away. Thanks for reading. :)


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